


never quite as it seems

by spacebubble



Series: ( selections ) [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (if you can call a fic set over a hundred years after the episode a coda...), Bittersweet, Coda, Episode: s07e04 Take Me Out to the Holosuite, Ficlet, Gen, Post-Canon, Reunions, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebubble/pseuds/spacebubble
Summary: When Solok is old, Benjamin Sisko pays him a visit.





	never quite as it seems

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place quite a while after the end of DS9. I've been wanting to read this sort of fic for ages, then decided I might as well write it. :) 
> 
> There's maybe a hint of something more, but ultimately, it's a gen sort of reunion. And, despite the [title inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yam5uK6e-bQ), it's very much meant to be real - though certain logistics will remain a mystery for now.

When Solok is old, Benjamin Sisko pays him a visit.

It's during the early evening, when dusk begins settling over the desert sands below. Solok's sitting on a bench in the garden while his great-great-grandson prepares dinner inside. 

The bench creaks gently as another figure sits down next to him.

"Admiral," Solok acknowledges, even though Sisko doesn't look like he's aged a day since Solok saw him on Deep Space Nine, and even though no one has seen Admiral Sisko for over a century. 

It is entirely possible that the man sitting down on the bench next to him is not the Sisko that Solok once knew, or the same Sisko that anyone alive has ever known.

"Benjamin," Sisko corrects. 

Nevertheless, he certainly still sounds the same. 

Solok nods. "I have not forgotten."

"I'm glad, Solok." Sisko grins. "You look well, old man." 

Solok vaguely remembers hearing Sisko refer to someone else by that nickname. A good friend. It is not an entirely unpleasant association. "I look appropriate for my age."

Sisko laughs. "Still as hilarious as ever."

Solok arches an eyebrow. "I do not understand."

"No, you never did." Sisko's laugh settles down into a startingly boyish grin. "Met your great-great-grandson back in the house, by the way. Great name. Didn't know Vulcans were allowed to name their children anything non-Vulcan."

To any other observer, Solok's expression remains impassive, even as he infinitesimally purses his lips. "There are logical exceptions when the parents are not entirely biologically Vulcan."

(He supposes such an outcome was logically inevitable, based on the probability of his descendants encountering humans throughout their Starfleet careers, and the chances of developing relationships after enduring repeated life-or-death ordeals together.)

"Ah, yes, that's only logical." Sisko's grin seems to grow wider, if that's at all possible. "What percent Human _is_ he, by the way?"

"Three-quarters." 

"And you love him one hundred percent."

Solok turns away to look back at the desert. The setting sun is fading, and the dunes begin to shift towards a violet shade. "If that helps simplify matters for you."

"Benjamin," Sisko repeats. He claps his hands and Solok blinks. "A fine name, indeed. Did you pick it out?"

"I had nothing to do with the naming of the child." Solok studiously watches the evening breeze stir the distant grains of sand. "His parents made that decision based on a number of other factors."

"Of course, of course." Sisko leans closer. "Do you know if he's any good at baseball?"

The corner of Solok's mouth twitches, briefly. "Three-time champion of the Starfleet Cadet Cup."

"Only three times?"

"He was otherwise preoccupied during one of the years." Solok tilts his head slightly toward Sisko. "Emergency rescue mission. All the top cadets of his year were recruited. Not all of them were able to withstand the atmospheric complications."

He sets his hand down on the arm of the bench. The polished wood feels sturdy underneath his fingers as he recalls the subspace transmissions, the sleepless nights.

It takes Solok a few seconds to resume speaking. Sisko waits without striving to fill the silence.

"However," Solok continues, "Cadet Benjamin's unique constitution performed admirably."

He blinks. The desert winds are fiercer than usual. Sand has gotten in his eye. Solok rubs at his eye, once, with a thin finger, then rests his hand back down onto the bench.

"Well, I'm glad he made it." Sisko's habitual bombast has evened out into something more tranquil. "I'm glad to see you and your family doing well, old man."

There's a hint of something otherworldly in Sisko's tone. Something approaching a farewell.

Suddenly Solok turns to him, turns to face him fully.

"Don't leave again," Solok says, as plain as the setting sun and the evening breeze. Had he known, he would have spoken of other things, of old regrets, and missed opportunities, and the gradual realizations that can only come with age. "There's so much I haven't told you."

Sisko reaches out to pat his hand - a stupidly human gesture of consolation - and Solok feels a brief flash of something beyond his comprehension, hovering at the periphery of his consciousness.

Something beyond time and space, beyond all the dimensions.

And just as suddenly, Solok's mind is also tranquil.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, old man." Sisko lifts his hand away, gives him another grin. "We'll see each other again. Once more. Before you leave, too."

Solok nods. He thinks he understands.

He lifts up his hand and holds it out to Sisko.

A delighted laugh bursts out. "Solok, are you offering to shake my hand?"

Solok permits himself a faintly obvious smile. "Yes, Benjamin."

He expects the humanly enthusiastic grab of his hand, but he does not expect the fierce hug that follows - Sisko pulls him in and claps his back, and Solok's too surprised to stiffen at the unexpected touch.

Before he knows it, Sisko's pulled away. The handshake is over. He can begin to see the emerging stars in Sisko's eyes, and Solok understands. 

As Sisko's corporeal form begins to fade out of sight, he holds up his hand in a Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Solok." 

Blinking slowly, Solok lifts his weathered hand into an answering salute. "Live long and prosper, Benjamin."

Soon enough, Solok is looking at no one.

He lowers his hand.

The desert breeze gently ruffles his hair. 

"Grandfather Solok?"

Solok turns to look at the direction of the voice calling out to him.

Young Benjamin walks out into the garden, looking surprised. Were it not for such an openly human expression on his face, and the unruly mess of hair on his head, he could have easily passed for a pure Vulcan. 

"I thought your friend was staying for dinner," Benjamin says. 

Solok shakes his head. "No."

"Ah, well." Benjamin tuts. "That's a pity. It's not every day a New Orleans native compliments my gumbo. I was hoping he'd stay to try out the other dishes, too."

That's surprising. "Compliments?"

"Yeah!" Benjamin grins, leaning on his hands on the back of the bench - another un-Vulcan, casually human gesture. "I'm _so_ relieved, Grandfather. It's your favorite dish, after all."

Solok arches an eyebrow. "My favorite _human_ dish."

Benjamin waves the air as if he's dismissing the adjective away. "You can't fool me, Grandfather. I'm your favorite great-great-grandson, after all."

Sand gets in his eye again. Solok blinks it away. "Do not share this opinion with your cousins."

"Hey, I know better than that." Benjamin chuckles. "Besides, we're all your favorites for some reason or another."

This is true. But so is Benjamin's earlier assertion. (Even though Solok has never expressed this to the boy, Benjamin knows it anyway.)

"The wind's picking up." Benjamin walks around the bench, then extends his elbow out to help Solok stand back up. "Ready to head back inside?"

They both know Vulcans have an inner eyelid for withstanding the desert winds. Like the pointed ears, the inner eyelid has passed itself down Solok's bloodline. He wonders if Benjamin's descendants, in all their iterations, might also possess it, or if it will gradually recede and vanish someday. 

Solok takes the proffered elbow, then slowly hoists himself up.

He is very old, but still doing well for his age.

They walk back into the house. 


End file.
